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Nick had faced some scary crises in his life, but nothing compared to this. His son’s life was in mortal danger. Seeing the threat on the computer screen before him made it real in a way it hadn’t been until now. Nausea ripped through him.
“There’s a video attachment,” one of the FBI agents announced.
Laura clicked on it. A picture of their son smiling up at the camera flashed onto the computer monitor. The video rolled and Adam placed a bright red leaf into what looked like some kind of scrapbook. “Look at my pretty leaf,” he announced in his clear, sweet voice.
Lisbet’s voice came from off camera. “Tell Mummy and Daddy we’re doing fine and that you’re safe and warm and well-fed. Tell them Joe has been très kind to us.”
Adam nodded. “I’m learning all kinds of neat things about nature. But I miss you. Joe says you’re fighting the bad man for him. Hurry up and win. I want to go home.”
A sob escaped Laura and she turned to Nick, burying her face against his side. He gripped her shoulder so tightly he was probably hurting her. But he couldn’t help himself.
The FBI agents went into high gear around them.
“Identify that leaf.”
“Nature. He’s being held in a rural area.”
“Joe. Get a list of disgruntled former AbaCo employees.”
“The child turned the page in that album. Can we digitally enhance the leaves on the second page?”
“Analyze the grain of the floorboards. They look old. Rough. Maybe in a cabin of some kind.”
The words flowed past Nick, but the only ones that stuck were the final ones in the note. Do not fail or else.
Or else.
Laura lifted her head. “Lisbet used the French word for very, très. She doesn’t speak much French. She was signaling us that the kidnapper is French or speaks French.”
Blackledge snapped, “Make that a list of French former AbaCo employees.”
A flurry of phone calls took place around them while Laura replayed the video over and over, presumably looking for more clues. Or maybe she just needed to see Adam’s face. It was both sweet relief and stabbing pain to see him. He might be safe for now, but that or else hung heavily over the little boy.
“AbaCo is refusing to release any employee lists to us without a subpoena.”
“Then get one,” Blackledge snapped.
“That’s going to be a problem,” someone replied. “They’ll have to release information about their American staff to us, but not their overseas employees.”
Blackledge frowned. “The French courts are notoriously slow, particularly when it comes to cooperating with Americans. We’re not exactly at the top of France’s list of allies these days. If AbaCo refuses to cooperate, it’s going to take too long to get what we need.”
Nick said sharply, “Spiros Shipping had a major office in Paris. AbaCo probably still uses it.”
“Do you think Kloffman—” Laura started.
Nick cut her off gently. “Why go to the top when you can go to the bottom?”
She frowned at him and he explained, “I ran Spiros Shipping for well over a decade. I’m betting Kloffman didn’t fire every one of my old employees when AbaCo took over. People who used to work for me must still be there.”
“What good does that do us?” she asked.
“My family believed strongly in knowing every employee and in building trust and loyalty among them. If I can find some of the old staff, they’ll help me.”
She pulled out her cell phone and slapped it into his hand.
“Let’s see if they bothered to change the phone numbers,” he muttered. He dialed the international number for Spiros Paris and was pleased when the call went through.
“AbaCo Shipping,” a female voice said in his ear.
“Marie? Marie Clothier? Is that you?”
She switched into English to match his. “Oui. Who may I ask, is this?”
“Nick—” Then he corrected, “Nikolas Spiros.”
The woman took off in a spate of excited French he only half caught. When she’d finally wound down, he said, “Look, Marie. I need your help. My son has been kidnapped and we’re trying to figure out who did it. I need a list of all the employees fired from the Paris office since AbaCo took over. Is there someone left from the old days who would do that for me? Quietly and quickly?”
“But of course. Let me connect you with François Guerrard.”
Nick laughed. “He’s still working? Why didn’t he retire years ago?”
“He would have if AbaCo hadn’t cut our pensions so badly.”
“Ahh, I’m sorry. I suppose it goes without saying that it would be best for you if you didn’t mention this little call to anyone at AbaCo?”
She laughed wryly. “That would be correct, sir. Ahh, it is so good to hear your voice again. I never believed what they said about you—”
He gently cut off what was likely to become a lengthy monologue from the talkative woman. “Thank you, Marie. I’m afraid I’m in a great hurry. We need to find my son.”
“Of course, Monsieur Nikolas. I shall pray for him.”
In a few minutes, a list of fired employees was sitting in his email inbox. Blackledge printed it out and his people went to work tracking down every single person on the list. Nick and Laura stayed out of the way and let the FBI invoke its formidable connections with Interpol to do the job.
The leaves were identified as belonging to plants indigenous to the mid-Atlantic states. Nick supposed knowing Adam was in one of a half-dozen states was better than nothing, but not much.
Laura spoke to Nick thoughtfully. “Why did Lisbet make a point of saying they were warm? It has been unseasonably warm all over the East Coast this past week. Is there somewhere substantially colder within this region that would prompt her comment?”
“Mountains or a coast,” Nick replied.
Laura turned to one of the FBI agents. “Would those leaves we saw be more likely to grow at high elevations or near the ocean?”
“The second leaf is a bush that tolerates salt spray well, ma’am.”
“The shore it is,” Laura announced.
Blackledge nodded his agreement. “You sure you don’t want back into this business, ma’am?”
She laughed without much humor. “Just get my son back so I can be a mommy.”
Nick put an arm around her shoulders and was gratified when she leaned against him. Within the hour, hundreds of law enforcement officials were combing the woods of coastal Virginia, searching for an isolated cabin. It was a needle-in-a-haystack hunt, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.
A command center was set up in their living room to coordinate the various search teams, and he and Laura were only in the way. They eventually retreated to their suite to let Blackledge’s team do its job.
It was late afternoon when Nick’s phone dinged to indicate an incoming text message. He checked it quickly. “Kloffman. He wants to meet us in Washington tonight. Says he’ll have what we need then. Do you think Agent Blackledge will lynch us if we sneak out again?”
She answered gravely, “I do. I’d suggest we tell him what we’re up to this time.” Their gazes met in mutual understanding. This was one of those times when no words were necessary for them to communicate perfectly.
Nick nodded. His thoughts drifted to his wife, Meredith, and the roadblock she represented to his future with Laura. “You do know that the minute I’m clear of her, I’m going to ask you to marry me, right?”
“And you’re so sure I’ll say yes?” Laura replied tightly.
He stared, thunderstruck. “You wouldn’t marry me?”
“Nick, my son is gone. Everything I thought I knew about you turns out to be a lie. You have a wife. You cheated on her with me in Paris.”
“Everything I know of her says I barely knew her and she no doubt married me purely for my money. There’s no way it was a love match.”
“I don’t care how good or bad she was. You broke your marriage vows. I have a problem with that.”
“I don’t remember any of it,” he replied with barely restrained frustration. “I can’t imagine ever having married her. And even if I actually thought it was a good idea at some point, I’m not that man anymore.”
“It’s a lot for me to accept on faith.”
“Laura, I love you with all my heart. Adam will come home safe and sound. This crisis will pass, and I’ll still love you. I’ll love you till the end of time.”
“Is love enough?” she asked in anguish. “I’m not so sure.”
“Love is everything,” he replied with a desperate calm that belied the panic beneath.
Without replying, she turned and walked out of the room. His heart broke a little more. He had to find a way to put his family back together. There had to be a way.
How was it she could feel like she was drowning even though she wasn’t even in water? Laura’s world had come apart and she didn’t have any idea how to put it back together again. She’d have thought her stress would have gone down slightly after the note from the kidnapper. The FBI profilers were confident that Adam wasn’t in any immediate danger, and whoever had him was on their side in the fight against AbaCo. That had to count for something, right?
But instead, she could hardly function. Her thoughts were disjointed, she was unable to plan anything, and even the smallest of tasks overwhelmed her. Only Ellie kept her sane. The infant adhered to a steady schedule of eating, cuddling, and sleeping, and Laura was immensely grateful for the infant’s rhythms.
It took twice as long as usual, but eventually, Laura formed a plan of action. First on her agenda was to contact some people at the CIA and see if Kloffman’s claims were true. Had the agency cut a deal with him to block the AbaCo trial from going forward in the name of national security? If so, she planned to pull every string she had at her disposal to get the CIA to delay making the announcement for a few more days.
Laura slept restlessly in the recliner in Ellie’s room, waking up a little after dawn. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a familiar phone number. The CIA operator forwarded her call to her old boss.
“Hi, Clifton, it’s Laura Delaney.”
“I wondered how long it was going to take you to call me.”
“So it’s true? There’s a deal to stop the AbaCo trial?”
“You know I’m not allowed to comment on such things, dear.”
“And you understand the life of an innocent child is on the line?”
He sighed. “I do. I was so sorry to hear about the kidnapping. Is there any ransom demand?”
She replied sharply, “Why, yes. There is. The kidnapper is insisting that Nick testify against AbaCo and bury them, or else.”
Heavy silence greeted that announcement. It was all the answer she needed from Clifton. The CIA had, indeed, cut a deal with AbaCo. “When is it going public?” she asked. “And don’t tell me that information is classified. We have to find Adam before the news is released.”
“Close of business today.”
It wasn’t enough time! “You have to delay it. We have to find my son first!”
“I understand, Laura. I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t make any promises.”
She hung up, staring in dismay at the happy clouds and dancing unicorns on Ellie’s pink walls. Adam was running out of time.
The FBI upped the man power over the course of the day, redoubling their efforts to locate Adam, but to no avail. Wherever the kidnapper was hiding him, he’d picked his spot well.
It was afternoon when another email came to her Laura Delaney address from the kidnapper. She raced downstairs and into the office to see it. Nick was already there, and he smiled encouragingly at her. Did that mean there was good news?
She sat down at her desk and read the note:
Thought you might like another video to know your son’s okay. I promise I won’t hurt him as long as you do the right thing and send AbaCo to hell where it belongs.
The attached video showed Adam playing some sort of pick-up-sticks game with Lisbet and squealing with laughter. For a kidnapping victim, he looked shockingly hale and hearty. The FBI team observing with her murmured in surprise.
“What?” she looked up at the faces around her in concern.
Blackledge shook his head. “This is the damnedest case. I’ve never seen a kid having the time of his life being kidnapped.”
“Stockholm syndrome?” another agent suggested.
Laura frowned. Stockholm syndrome was when kidnapping victims began to sympathize with their captors. It was an involuntary psychological reaction to the threat of dying.
Blackledge replied, “I don’t think so. The kid and nanny look like they’re genuinely having a ball.”
Laura asked, “Are they just making the best of a bad situation?”
One of the other analysts leaned forward, watching a playback of the tape. “They’re showing no stress-related body language. The muscles of the nanny’s face are relaxed and open, and see the way Adam’s lounging, here? He’s not taking any sort of self-protective posture. These two feel completely safe with their captor.”
Another agent piped up. “In both notes, the kidnapper has made a point of reassuring the parents that their son is safe and in no danger as long as things go his way. He used the phrase ‘I promise’ in the latest one, indicating he has a strong sense of honor and right and wrong. His word matters. As a profiler, I have to say I don’t think this guy has any intention of harming either of his victims. That’s not to say he won’t snap at some point and change his mind. After all, he’s enraged enough at AbaCo to have taken the drastic action of kidnapping someone. So, he does have a breaking point.”
Laura made a sound of distress. “And we’re going to see it when he finds out the trial’s not going to happen at all.”
The call from Laura’s CIA contact came in just a few minutes before five o’clock. The look of abject relief on her face said it all: they’d gotten their extension on the announcement that the AbaCo trial had been suspended.
She put down the phone and said, “He’s got a firm commitment to delay twenty-four hours and a tentative agreement to postpone the announcement for up to forty-eight hours beyond that. It was the best he could do.”
It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. He and Laura could breathe for another few hours. Her shoulders slumped in front of him and it was all he could do not to gather her up, carry her upstairs and make love to her. Anything to escape this endless nightmare for just a few minutes. But no way would she agree to such a thing. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to figuring out something, anything, to do to help find Adam.
He said thoughtfully, “You know, the kidnapper keeps emphasizing burying AbaCo, not necessarily the trial itself. You already said it to—” he broke off sharply. Mustn’t mention their extracurricular visit to Kloffman. He continued in chagrin, “You said it to me. What if, instead of testifying, I go on a media blitz to tell my story and slam AbaCo all over the airwaves? Done properly, I could probably tank the stock price and get the senior leadership fired. I could mire AbaCo in scandal so deep they’ll never recover.”
